


Find what you love and let it kill you

by Rosetylars



Category: Cricket RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Any more tags would just spoil it, Established Relationship, For tim and steve at least, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:48:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26461429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosetylars/pseuds/Rosetylars
Summary: A Hanahaki AU in which unrequited love causes a parasitic plant to grow in your chest - this will eventually kill you, unless resolved or removed, along with your feelings for the other person.
Relationships: Pat Cummins/Mitch Marsh, Tim Paine/Steve Smith
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	Find what you love and let it kill you

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by celebel's brilliant Hanahaki AU which introduced me to the trope.
> 
> ***  
> Tim and Steve are already together for the sake of this fic, and Pat and Mitch are *not* together.
> 
> ***  
> Warning for mentions of coughing up blood.

_CA Centre of Excellence, Brisbane, April 2012_

It had been a lovely night. Mitch, Pat, Adam and Kane headed to Josh’s room to watch a movie. They all had a beer, and as the evening progressed, Pat had gotten closer and closer to Mitch. Eventually, Pat had fallen asleep with his head in Mitch’s lap. It was the most adorable, endearing sight Mitch had ever seen, and it had left him with a warmth in his chest that hadn’t faded since he returned to his own room.

At one point, Kane laughed too loudly at something Adam had said, and Mitch hushed him urgently.

“What’s wrong, mate?” Kane asked, confused, turning to face Mitch.

Mitch gestured to the sleeping eighteen year old in his lap, and Kane’s eyes widened.

“Are you two together?” Kane asked, confused.

Mitch’s eyes widened with shock, and he made a deliberate attempt to keep his voice down. “What? No! He just fell asleep like this,” he whispered.

Kane and Adam exchanged a look, but Kane shrugged, turning back to the TV screen.

As Pat slept, Mitch wondered why the thought of being perceived as Pat’s boyfriend made him so happy.

When Mitch was back in his own room, after sharing a long goodnight hug with Pat, he headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

He felt a tickle in the back of his throat, and he coughed to try and clear it. He continued with his night time routine, and didn’t realise anything was wrong until he caught a red spot on his hand, out of the corner of his eye.

It was one tiny droplet of blood. Mitch blinked, confused. He decided he must have nicked himself on his razor as he dug through his bathroom bag. He put it out of his mind and washed his hands.

***

_Perth, July 2012_

It was Mitch’s mum’s idea to invite Pat to stay at their house when he visited Perth. Pat was there to tour the WACA facilities - the Scorchers were interested in signing him for the upcoming Big Bash season.

It had only been a few weeks since they had last seen each other at the academy, but Mitch was still thrumming with excitement to see his best friend.

Mitch picked Pat up in the pickup lane at the airport, and once Pat had gotten his luggage into the boot, he greeted Mitch with a kiss on the cheek. Mitch’s heart flipped with the ease of the action.

They spent almost a week together, without leaving each other’s sides.

Mitch’s mum had set up the spare room for Pat, and the first night, Mitch and Pat stayed up far too late playing PlayStation in Mitch’s room, perched on the end of Mitch’s bed in front of his TV.

Mitch won yet another round of their game, and Pat huffed, pushing Mitch playfully.

“You’re cheating, I know it,” Pat declared.

Mitch poked his tongue out. “You’re just jealous I’m talented at this,” he returned.

Pat rolled his eyes fondly, giving Mitch another shove. “It’s not fair. Your PlayStation is used to you. It helps you win.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Patty. I won fair and square!”

The boys continued their banter until a knock on Mitch’s bedroom door forced them to spring apart, almost guiltily.

It was Shaun.

“Mitchell, shut the fuck up. It’s one thirty,” Shaun declared. He was obviously ready to sleep, yawning in his pyjamas.

“Sorry,” Mitch grimaced, and Shaun bid them both goodnight without batting an eyelid.

“I should leave you be,” Pat said, scratching the back of his head self-consciously.

Mitch felt a tightness in his chest, and decided to take the leap. “Stay here,” he suggested softly. “It’s a queen,” he added, in case Pat was uncomfortable with the bed space.

“Are you sure you don’t mind? I don’t want to get in your way,” Pat replied.

Mitch shrugged. “Don’t be silly. I might even cuddle you if you’re lucky,” he joked, giving Pat a playful shove.

Pat threw his head back with laughter, and the tightness in Mitch’s chest returned. He pushed that thought down, though, enjoying the sight of his best friend on his bed.

They had both already been in pyjamas for hours and cleaned their teeth prior to their games, so they were able to get straight into bed.

They chatted for far too long, but eventually, Pat fell asleep. His soft breaths were the only noise in the room, and Mitch’s chest tightened.

In the morning, Mitch woke up with Pat curled into his side like a kitten. It was beyond adorable, and Mitch took a few moments to appreciate the nineteen year old’s dark eyelashes, his angular cheekbones, and his gorgeous pink lips, slightly parted as he slept.

It took Mitch a moment to realise that it was weird to be thinking about his best friend like this. He forced himself to snap out of it, but the tightness in his chest remained.

***

They managed to find excuses for Pat to share Mitch’s bed every night of his stay. When Pat was in the shower, the night before he went home, Shaun came into Mitch’s room and sat on the end of his bed.

“Mate, is there something you want to tell me?” Shaun asked, eyebrows raised.

Mitch frowned. He hadn’t snuck out, stolen Shaun’s alcohol supplies, or forgotten to return any of Shaun’s clothes in a really long time. He didn’t even think he’d eaten any of Shaun’s special chocolate in the fridge. He genuinely had nothing on his conscience. He shook his head, confused.

Shaun sighed. “Mitch, Pat’s slept in your bed every night. You’re an adult, mate. If you two are fucking, that’s fine-“

Mitch cut him off as a fierce cough racked through him. He covered his mouth with his hands, putting them in his lap before he replied.

“What? No! He’s my best friend, Shaun! We’ve just been staying up stupidly late talking and playing PlayStation, so it’s stupid for him to have to go all the way down the hall to be on his own when he can just stay here with me,” Mitch explained.

Shaun didn’t look like he bought it, but he nodded anyway. “I’m just saying, if you two _were_ more than friends, it wouldn’t be an issue,” he explained gently.

Mitch’s chest tightened once more, and he held back another cough. “Shaun, we’re just friends. I don’t like him like that,” he replied.

Shaun’s expression was unreadable, even though Mitch could normally read him like an open book. “Okay, mate,” he replied, heading out of Mitch’s room.

Mitch didn’t realise until he went to the bathroom that there was a small droplet of blood in his palm. He washed it away, thinking nothing of it.

***

_World Cup Final, Melbourne, March 2015_

Over the next three years, Mitch spent more and more time with Pat, thanks to cricket.

When they were both at home, on opposite sides of the country, they called or FaceTimed until it got so late for Pat that he was fighting his eyelids to stay awake.

Mitch loved Pat, in the way that everybody loves their best friend. He adored every second they spent talking to each other; or even better, spent together, on tour.

The day they won the World Cup, though, everything changed.

Pat and Mitch had been in the dugout for the whole match, talking rubbish, enjoying each other’s company.

Afterwards, when the Aussies were celebrating, they all got drunk. Properly drunk. Mitch felt grateful Johnno was there, because he always took Mitch under his wing when it came to booze-fuelled nights.

At one point, late into the evening, Mitch had just finished in the bathroom when Johnno walked in. The older man grinned when he saw Mitch, and he shoved Mitch’s shoulder clumsily.

“Mitchy, I’ve wanted to talk to you alone all night. Be honest with me. You and Patty have fucked, right?” Johnno asked, his tact deserting him two or three beers ago.

Mitch grimaced. “What? No! He’s my best friend,” he replied.

Johnno looked like he didn’t believe Mitch. “Mate, you two are both happiest when you’re together. Plus, you’re healthy young men. Surely you’ve at least kissed or given each other a quick wristy along the way?”

Mitch was shocked, and coughs racked his body. He felt something in his throat, so he kept coughing. Johnno thumped his back, trying to help, and whatever had been stuck in Mitch’s throat dislodged itself.

In Mitch’s fist was what looked like a clump of blood. When Mitch took a closer look, though, he realised there was a thin, white petal in amongst it.

Mitch was too drunk to process what was going on.

Johnno saw the contents of Mitch’s fist, and paled.

“Mate, let’s get you to bed. We can talk about this tomorrow,” Johnno said, his voice suddenly very weary.

***

The next little while was a blur. The next thing Mitch knew, he woke up feeling disoriented, in a hotel bed that didn’t belong to him.

Johnno must have heard him stir, bringing him some Panadol and water immediately.

“What’s going on?” Mitch asked, worry heavy in his stomach.

Johnno sat beside Mitch on the side of the bed, while Mitch swallowed two tablets with a grimace, handing Johnno back the water bottle.

“Mate, what do you remember about last night?” Johnno asked. He looked exhausted, with dark rings under his eyes.

Mitch’s mind was fuzzy. “I remember spending the day with Patty. The team winning. Drinking,” Mitch listed, still confused.

He didn’t know why the thought of Pat made his chest tighten. He coughed a little bit, mouth closed, just to clear his throat, and there was a metallic taste in his mouth. He put it down to the hangover.

Johnno looked torn. “Mate, I don’t want to scare you, but something happened. And you need to know.”

Mitch’s stomach dropped immediately. “Is everyone okay? My family, Shaun, Patty-“

Johnno held out a hand to stop Mitch there. “Yes mate, they’re all okay, but...” he trailed off.

“Just tell me,” Mitch begged.

“You and I... we talked about Pat. I asked if you two were more than friends, and you had a big coughing fit. Mitchy... you coughed up a petal,” Johnno explained, heartbroken.

Mitch felt as if the bed had tilted out from under him. His vision went black for a moment with shock. If Johnno was right, he had-

“Hanahaki disease,” Johnno murmured, voice breaking.

Mitch couldn’t believe it. That was a disease of _lovesickness_. How could Mitch have it if he had never been in love?

He must have gaped at Johnno for too long, because Johnno tried to fill the silence. “It’s only one petal, for now. Hopefully it progresses slowly. You have a lot of time, mate,” he said optimistically.

Mitch still couldn’t breathe, and he now knew that was probably due to the parasitic plant growing in his lungs.

“How could this happen to me?” Mitch murmured.

Johnno just shook his head, squeezing Mitch’s shoulder. “I don’t know, mate. But you’re not alone. I promise.”

***

Since that morning, almost two years prior, Johnno had promised not to tell anyone about Mitch’s disease, at Mitch’s request.

Mitch worked out pretty quickly that his Hanahaki was for Pat.

It was mostly easy when Mitch and Pat were across the country from one another. The only things that could set Mitch’s coughing fits off were Pat’s phone calls, or particularly sweet texts that made Mitch‘s heart flip.

One particular text, about six months after the World Cup incident with Johnno, set Mitch off so badly that he had coughed up another petal in the morning. It was pretty innocuous - “Hey Mitchy, hope you have a good day at training, love you xxx” - but the gentle way Pat showed Mitch that he cared about him always made Mitch’s chest tighten.

Mitch felt his chest grow a fraction tighter every time they were together in person, though. But it felt worth it. Patty’s company was worth every ragged breath.

***

_Perth Scorchers vs Sydney Thunder, New Year’s Day, 2017, WACA Ground._

On this day, as the Scorchers warmed up on field, Mitch looked across at the Thunder boys and saw Pat looking at him. His chest tightened immediately, but the thrill of Pat’s smile overrode the feeling, and Mitch found himself heading right into the younger man’s arms.

Pat pressed a kiss to Mitch’s forehead, and Mitch felt a tickle in his throat. He swallowed it back.

“I’ve missed you so much, Mitchy,” Pat grinned. “You look so at home here!”

Mitch melted, at that. “You know how much I love it here,” Mitch said gently.

They got lost in conversation until Pat’s coach called him over.

“Sorry Mitchy, I’d better go,” Pat sighed. He leant in and pressed a kiss to Mitch’s cheek, making Mitch’s heart flip.

“Good luck,” Mitch managed to choke out.

He waited until he was ten metres away from Pat before he let the coughs wrack his body. He coughed and coughed and coughed, grateful that the WACA PA system was pumping very loud music to cover for him. When he looked down at his hand, there was a splotch of blood, with three dainty white petals in amongst it. Mitch cringed at the sight, ducking off the field with the aim of washing his hands without being seen.

Johnno followed after him, worried. He found Mitch in the bathroom block adjoining the Scorchers’ locker room, standing over the sink, heaving for breath, a fistful of blood. 

“Mate, how bad has it gotten?” Johnno asked, very concerned.

Mitch looked at him, grimacing. “Just coughed up three petals,” he answered.

Johnno sighed, rubbing Mitch’s back. “You have a little bit of blood on your lip,” he said gently, pointing it out so Mitch could get some water and rinse it.

“Mitchy, I think you should tell Shaun,” Johnno suggested gently.

Mitch’s breath hitched at the idea, but it only got worse from there.

“Tell me what?” Shaun asked, entering the bathroom. He had followed the other two inside, worried.

Mitch looked up at him like a deer in headlights. This had been a secret for just shy of two whole years, and Mitch didn’t normally keep anything from Shaun.

“Mitchell, why is there blood on your hand?” Shaun asked, voice flat.

Mitch’s heart was racing. He didn’t want Shaun to worry about him, but now, here they were-

“Mitchell Ross, show me what’s in your hand, right now,” Shaun demanded.

Mitch thought he might be sick. Slowly, he unfurled his fist, showing his brother three crushed daisy petals in a little puddle of blood.

Shaun took a stumbling step backwards, shocked. “No,” he whispered.

Tears sprang to Mitch’s eyes at the pain in his brother’s voice. “Shaun, I’m so sorry we didn’t tell you sooner, but I didn’t want you to worry-“

“Hang on, you knew about this?” Shaun asked Johnno, horrified.

Johnno grimaced, apologetic. “Shaun-“

“It’s my fault, I asked him not to tell anyone. He’s the only one who’s known all this time,” Mitch explained.

“What do you mean, all this time? How long has this been going on?” Shaun asked, obviously distressed.

Mitch looked at Johnno desperately.

“I first found out after the World Cup win,” Johnno replied softly.

Shaun’s eyes widened. “Mitchell, you have been coughing up petals for almost two years and didn’t think to tell me?”

Mitch hated letting Shaun down, and this was even more serious.

“I didn’t want you to worry about me,” Mitch mumbled.

Shaun sighed, and did something Mitch didn’t expect. He pulled Mitch into his arms, giving his brother a tight hug.

“We can talk about this later,” Shaun declared. “We have a match to play.”

***

Clearly distracted, Shaun fell early, for just four runs. Mitch managed a brilliant 44* from 27, despite a couple of coughs when Pat gave him a glittering smile across the field. Mitch even managed to hit a six off Pat’s bowling, which made his chest tighten uncomfortably.

The Thunder weren’t able to chase down the total posted by the Scorchers. After the match, Pat sought Mitch out straight away.

“Were you coughing at the crease, Mitchy?” Pat asked, eyebrows furrowed with concern.

Mitch inhaled sharply, constricting his already tight chest. He swallowed quickly, hoping not to cough in front of Pat.

“Yeah, a bug must have flown into my mouth or something,” Mitch lied.

Pat laughed angelically, reaching out to smooth Mitch’s hair where the wind had messed it up. “You’re an idiot,” he chuckled fondly.

Mitch melted, enjoying being close to his best friend again. “Do you have team plans after this?”

Pat shook his head. “Early flight, so nobody’s doing anything.”

Mitch knew it would almost be suicide, but he couldn’t resist. “Stay over at my place? It’s been too long since I smashed you at PlayStation,” he teased.

Pat’s eyes lit up. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. I’ll drive you back to the hotel whenever you need to be back with the team,” Mitch offered.

Pat grinned, leaning forward to kiss Mitch on the forehead. “Thanks, Mitchy. Sounds perfect.

***

The night was perfect. Mitch and Shaun had headed to the match together, so when Mitch told Shaun that Pat was coming over, in the Scorchers’ locker room, Shaun just raised his eyebrows.

“Mate, we really need to talk about this,” Shaun whispered, pointing to Mitch’s chest.

Mitch nodded. “I know, I know,” he replied. “But I don’t know when I’ll see him next. Please?”

Shaun sighed, nodding tiredly. “Yes, Mitch, I’ll drop both of you home.”

“Thank you,” Mitch sighed, relieved. “I promise we’ll talk about it. Lunch tomorrow?”

Shaun nodded. “Come over. Do you mind Bec knowing?”

Mitch shook his head. He didn’t expect Shaun to hide it from Bec.

***

It was about 10:30pm by the time Shaun dropped the boys at Mitch’s place, and Mitch immediately set about getting them something to eat.

After a beer and some snacks with questionable nutrition, Pat and Mitch relaxed on the couch, playing PlayStation and laughing about inside jokes that were five years old.

Mitch’s chest was tight and his throat was scratchy, but the time he spent with Pat felt worth every bit of it. He managed to hold back most of his coughs, settling for ‘clearing his throat’ at regular intervals.

After several games, Pat was yawning adorably, and Mitch decided they should head to bed. He offered Pat a T-shirt to sleep in, because his Thunder polo didn’t look comfortable.

When Pat emerged from Mitch’s room, in one of Mitch’s old T-shirts and a pair of his running shorts, Mitch’s mouth went dry. He looked so _right_ in Mitch’s clothes.

Pat declared that he wasn’t ready to sleep, so he sat on Mitch’s bed, and they chatted. They talked about every aspect of life, from cricket, to family, to funny videos they had seen online - every aspect, except their love lives. The one topic they had never, ever discussed with each other.

At one point, Pat laid down with his head on Mitch’s spare pillow, and Mitch allowed himself just one fleeting moment to imagine that Pat was his boyfriend, and they shared a bed every night.

It was one moment too many.

Mitch’s chest constricted more than it ever had before, and he excused himself to the bathroom just in time. He was beyond grateful for his soundproof ensuite when the coughs racked through him, so aggressively that his throat felt like razorblades. He coughed and coughed and coughed into the sink, until the wet clump in his throat was freed. He looked at it, so shocked that he felt a bit distanced from the sight in front of him. There were more petals than he had ever seen before. Five? Six? He couldn’t be sure. He knew absolutely nothing about flowers, but his best guess was that these were thin petals, so it looked like the flower was roughly half formed.

He squished the blood-clotted clump down the sink, hoping it wouldn’t clog the pipes, and rinsed his mouth to rid it of the metallic taste of his own blood.

This was getting bad.

Mitch returned to the bedroom, putting on a calm face. “Ready to sleep?” Mitch asked, brushing Pat’s hair back out of his eyes.

Pat blinked sleepily. “I should get out of your hair,” he protested weakly.

“The guest room is kind of a mess,” Mitch admitted. “Stay here?”

Pat already looked comfortable on the spare side of Mitch’s bed, and he smiled softly at the suggestion. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Mitch replied, chest aching. He held up the sheets so that Pat could wriggle under them, and Mitch joined him under the covers.

“Goodnight, sleepy,” Mitch murmured.

Pat reached a hand out, stroking Mitch’s hair. “Night, Mitchy. I love you,” he murmured sleepily.

“Love you too, Patty,” he replied, feeling the tendrils of the plant shifting inside his lungs.

He just wished he and Pat could say that to each other, with the words meaning more than they did between best friends.

***

What Mitch didn’t see, after he dropped Pat at the team hotel, was Pat keeling over, sharp coughs racking his body.

***

Mitch drove straight to Shaun’s once he had dropped Pat off. He managed to hold all of his coughs back until he was in Shaun’s bathroom, where he coughed up another clump of six petals.

He groaned at the pain in his throat, doing his best to clean up the mess his chest had made.

When he finally emerged from the bathroom, Shaun was standing behind the kitchen island, and Bec was sitting on a stool, both waiting for him.

Mitch sat down on the spare stool beside Bec.

“Where’s Austin?” Mitch asked, breaking the ice.

“Having a sleep,” Bec replied.

Shaun just looked at Mitch. “So, you have Hanahaki disease,” he said plainly.

Mitch swallowed thickly.

Bec didn’t seem surprised, so Shaun must have told her last night.

“When did this start?” Shaun asked.

Mitch honestly didn’t know. “The first time I coughed up a petal was when I was drunk after the World Cup. Johnno told me the next morning,” Mitch grimaced.

Bec winced, taking Mitch’s hand in her own, comforting him.

“And it’s obviously progressed since then?” Shaun continued.

Mitch explained all of the times he could remember coughing up petals. He didn’t have to sugar coat anything, even though he hated the pain on Shaun and Bec’s faces.

Bec sighed when Mitch had finished his recount of the previous night.

“How long have you been in love with him for, Mitchy?” Bec asked softly.

Mitch blinked. “Been in love with who?”

Shaun and Bec exchanged an alarmed look.

“Patty,” Bec replied, as if it were the simplest answer in the world.

Mitch frowned. “I don’t know if I am in love with him,” he murmured.

“Mate, Hanahaki isn’t a friendship disease,” Shaun pointed out.

Mitch was lost. He knew he loved Pat as a best friend, and he found him very attractive. But... proper love? How?

“I don’t understand,” Mitch shook his head.

“How come you’re never accepting the dates people ask you on?” Shaun asked.

Mitch cringed. “I don’t know. Just not interested in any of them,” he shrugged.

“Would you go out with Pat if he asked you?” Bec asked gently.

Mitch considered that, and his chest tightened immediately. He coughed a few times, small spots of blood falling into his fist.

“Sorry,” Bec grimaced, rubbing Mitch’s back. “Didn’t mean to set you off.”

Shaun handed Mitch some paper towel so he could wipe the blood on his hand.

“I don’t love Patty,” Mitch said, the words strained even to his own ears.

Bec squeezed his shoulder, and Shaun gave him a sorry look.

“Mate, I think your body is trying to send you a message,” Shaun said gently. “You do love him. And it makes sense, doesn’t it? All of your coughing fits seem related to him. You knew that yourself.”

Mitch swallowed, trying to fight back the rising anxiety in his chest. How could he have fallen for his best friend? How could that love be _killing him_?

Shaun sighed, clearly deciding Mitch had been grilled enough. “Alright, I’ll sort out some lunch,” he declared, busying himself in the kitchen.

Mitch sat at the island bench, head in his hands. How could this have happened to him?

***

_Training block ahead of the first Ashes Test, Brisbane, November 2017_

Throughout the year, with Shaun’s help, Mitch came to terms with his disease. He was in love with Pat, unrequited love, and this love was going to eventually kill him.

It was a lot to digest.

His symptoms seemed to only get more severe when his feelings for Pat grew stronger - every adorable text or call that Pat signed off with a friendly ‘love you’ gave the parasitic roots in Mitch’s lungs more strength.

Mitch was roomed with Shaun in the hotel in Brisbane ahead of the first Ashes Test, and Shaun was very wary of Mitch spending more and more time with Pat.

On top of worrying that his Hanahaki was progressing by the day, Mitch had somehow offended Steve. The captain wouldn’t give Mitch the time of day, at all. If Steve wasn’t with Tim, he was scowling at Mitch across the room, and if Mitch wasn’t there, he’d scowl at Shaun by extension.

After one particular training session where Steve had outright refused to face Mitch in the nets, Mitch asked Tim for a chat.

Steve glared at them as they left the locker room together, heading up the race for a walk on the Gabba turf.

“Timmy, I’ve gotta ask, cause it’s killing me,” Mitch began.

Tim looked at him warily.

“Have I... why does Steve hate me all of a sudden?” Mitch asked.

Tim sighed, pursing his lips. “I’d tell you it’s not personal, but it kind of is,” Tim admitted. “But it’s not something you can control,” he added, at the look on Mitch’s face.

Mitch was floundering. “I don’t understand, have I said something wrong? Have I done something that hurt him? After all the issues I had with Michael...” Mitch trailed off, feeling terrible. “I don’t want to be that guy who can’t get along with his captains,” he murmured.

Tim sighed, putting an arm around Mitch’s broad shoulders. “I understand how it looks from your perspective,” he acknowledged. “But Steve can’t control how he feels, right now. His loyalty-“ Tim cut himself off, clearly worried he had said too much.

Mitch tore a hand back through his hair. “Please, help me fix it,” he urged.

Tim grimaced. “I’m really sorry, Mitchy. I don’t think we can fix it. None of us,” he added, mind clearly a million miles away.

***

Mitch managed to put the tension out of his mind whenever he was around Pat.

They went out for dinner, one night. Pat had ordered spaghetti bolognese, and Mitch had ordered steak, but as soon as Pat’s meal came, Mitch’s stomach grumbled. It looked delightful.

“Oh my god, yum,” Mitch whined, looking at Pat’s bowl with jealousy.

Pat chuckled. “You can have half, I don’t mind,” he offered, that perfect smile on his face.

Mitch declined, initially, beginning his own meal.

But halfway through his steak, he’d had enough of meat. He had serious dinner envy.

He must have been staring at Pat’s spaghetti, because Pat giggled sweetly. He twirled some spaghetti on his fork, putting his spare hand underneath as he lifted it across the table, leaning over so he could hold the fork to Mitch’s mouth.

Mitch accepted the spaghetti, grinning sheepishly.

He hummed appreciatively, swallowing before he spoke. “That is perfect,” Mitch declared.

“You can have the rest if you want, I’ve had enough,” Pat replied.

“Would you like some steak?” Mitch offered.

Pat’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

Mitch grinned at the glee on his best friend’s face. “Of course. Swap?”

They both lifted their plates, swapping them over, managing not to cause a big mess.

They finished each other’s dinners, grinning sheepishly when the waitress noticed they had swapped, as she took the plates away.

It was the most perfect evening together, and by the time they were saying goodnight at Mitch’s door, Mitch’s chest was hurting sharply, as if he’d been stabbed.

Pat gripped Mitch’s jaw, leaning in to place a kiss on Mitch’s cheek, dangerously close to the corner of Mitch’s mouth. “Goodnight, Mitchy. Love you.”

“Love you more, Patty,” Mitch replied. But this time, he meant it as more than just a best friend.

***

What Mitch didn’t know, as he walked through his door, was that Pat had collapsed to his knees in the room he was sharing with Josh, coughing his lungs up.

***

Mitch had barely made it inside his hotel room before the coughs began.

He coughed. And coughed. And coughed. He stumbled into to the en-suite, and Shaun caught him just before he fell to the ground, retching.

Shaun sat beside Mitch on the floor, a hand rubbing Mitch’s back while he coughed his lungs out. Mitch coughed up more bloodstained petals than he ever had before, and his eyes watered as he choked on them.

The coughing fit lasted for five minutes that felt like five hours.

When his lungs had nothing left to give, Mitch tried to speak.

“You know the worst part?” Mitch choked out.

“What is it, mate?” Shaun asked, voice breaking at the sight of his brother so unwell.

Mitch huffed a humourless laugh. “Even though it made me so sick, it was the best night of my life,” he admitted.

Shaun’s heart broke, and he pulled Mitch into his arms, wiping the blood on Mitch’s mouth with his thumb. “This is getting really bad, mate,” Shaun pointed out, voice shaking.

Mitch had never heard his brother sound so worried. He swallowed down some blood. “How long do you think I’ve got?”

Shaun took a look at the bloodied petals on the tiles. The daisies were fully formed. Shaun’s voice cracked as he said, “Not long, Mitchy. Not long at all.”

A tear fell from Mitch’s eye at the tone of Shaun’s voice.

“You won’t consider surgery, will you,” Shaun asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.

Mitch just shook his head, struggling for breath with every word. “Patty’s a part of me. He’s been my best friend for six years,” he choked out. “I’d- I’d rather die than lose the part of me that loves him,” Mitch admitted. The words brought about another tight squeeze in his chest, and he hacked some more coughs, struggling for air until he coughed up another complete daisy.

Mitch fell back against Shaun, exhausted to his bones. Shaun’s eyes were wet, struggling not to be able to help Mitch with this.

Shaun pushed Mitch’s sweaty hair back off his forehead. “I’m worried about you, Mitchy,” Shaun whispered.

Mitch’s heart was breaking more by the second. “I’ll be okay,” he croaked. “Let’s try and get some sleep.”

Shaun didn’t admit that he was worried Mitch might not wake up. He helped Mitch to his feet and over to his bed, and Mitch managed to change into a T-shirt.

Mitch knew just how worried Shaun was when he kissed Mitch on the forehead as he settled into bed.

“I love you, mate, you know that, right?” Shaun whispered, eyes wet.

The urgency in Shaun’s tone worried Mitch more than the pain in his chest. “Of course I do,” he replied. “Shaun, you don’t think I’m gonna die, do you?”

Shaun’s moment of hesitation spoke volumes, and Mitch felt fear settle behind the tightness in his chest.

“Sleep well, mate,” Shaun whispered. “Wake me up at any point if you’re struggling, okay?”

Mitch nodded, hoping Shaun’s fear was an overreaction.

***

Mitch was relieved to wake up the following morning.

He was struggling for breath, but he was alive.

There was a knock on the door, and Shaun headed over to open it, silently praying it wasn’t Pat so that Mitch’s coughs weren’t set off again.

Mitch shifted to the end of the bed so he could see the doorway. 

It was Josh, looking frantic.

“Help, please,” Josh begged, opening his hands to Shaun.

They were full of bloodied daisy petals.

“Fuck,” Shaun breathed. “Is this your blood?”

“No,” Josh replied quickly. “It’s Patty’s.”

Suddenly, Mitch couldn’t breathe. His vision went black. Not only did Mitch love Pat so much that it was killing him, but Pat actually loved _somebody else_ that much.

Mitch dropped his head back to his pillow. He had to fight so hard for every breath, now, and it was getting more and more difficult. He was exhausted. What was the point of fighting to stay awake when Pat was dying of lovesickness for somebody else?

“Pat’s in love?” Shaun asked.

Shaun turned to look at Mitch and saw him laying down lifelessly, pale, his chest barely moving.

“No, Mitchy,” Shaun breathed, torn between rushing to his brother’s side and going to Pat.

But ‘Pat’s in love’ was the last thing Mitch heard. He couldn’t fight his body any more. He let his eyes droop shut.

***

Mitch woke up to the sight of too-bright fluorescent lights and a bunch of unfamiliar beeping noises. His face was covered with an oxygen mask, and there was a drip in his arm.

He blinked, startled, looking around.

His eyes found Shaun in a chair by his bedside, and he relaxed a fraction, despite the intense constriction of his airways.

“What’s going on?” Mitch croaked, terrified.

“You’re about to go in for emergency surgery to remove the plant, mate. It’s the only way you’re gonna live,” Shaun replied shakily.

Mitch tried to sit up, pushing the oxygen mask off, shaking his head. “No. No. I can’t live without my feelings for Patty. I’d rather be dead,” he murmured.

Shaun looked broken. “Mate, there’s more. Patty’s gone in for surgery as well.”

Mitch’s stomach dropped. In his shock, he had forgotten that Pat had Hanahaki disease as well.

“What? No! What if the surgery goes wrong? Do we even know who-“

“Mitch, please. There’s no time, any more. You were both going to die, and soon. This was the only way.”

Mitch blinked. “What do you mean, _was_?”

Shaun reached for Mitch’s hand, and Mitch knew this was bad news.

“Mitchy... Pat’s in surgery right now. It’s too late.”

Mitch blacked out.

***

Down the hall, Steve was pacing in the hallway, waiting for Pat to return from surgery.

Josh was the one who had come to hospital alongside Shaun, but Steve had since replaced him, insisting Josh needed to get some rest - he was still in shock after Pat had coughed up so much blood, and collapsed in his arms.

When they changed over, Josh forgot to mention that Mitch and Shaun were in the hospital, too.

Tim had come along to keep Steve company, and he had just returned from a coffee run. he pressed a hot chocolate into Steve’s hand, gently kissing his boyfriend’s forehead.

They sat outside Pat’s empty hospital room, waiting for some news.

When both of their phones vibrated with a text, Tim frowned.

Steve read the text in the group chat, nearly dropping his hot chocolate.

It was from Shaun, letting the rest of the squad know that Mitch was in hospital, about to have emergency surgery to remove his Hanahaki plant before it killed him.

Tim and Steve had had no idea about Mitch’s disease.

Suddenly, it clicked.

Tim called Shaun faster than Steve could react.

“Timmy,” Shaun answered, sounding exhausted.

“Who’s Mitch’s Hanahaki for?” Tim asked, hands shaking.

Steve pressed his ear up to the back of Tim’s phone, straining to catch every word.

“Patty,” Shaun replied. “And Pat loves someone else. That’s why Mitch needs surgery,” he explained. 

Steve choked back a gasp, and Tim shivered. “Shaun, no, you’ve gotten this wrong,” Tim said, voice shaking. “Pat’s Hanahaki is for Mitch, too,” he revealed. “Or, it was. He’s in having the surgery as we speak.”

Steve was blinking back tears.

“No,” Shaun breathed. “That can’t be right.”

Through the phone, Tim heard Mitch ask, “Whats going on?”

Shaun obviously moved his mouth away from the phone to explain to Mitch that Pat’s Hanahaki had been for him.

The strangled cry from Mitch broke Tim’s heart.

***

Mitch had a panic attack.

His heart rate picked up so much that a nurse rushed in to see what was going on. Shaun explained the situation, and she looked crestfallen.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry this is happening,” she said.

She gave Mitch some medicine to try and help his anxiety, but he already couldn’t breathe because of the plant in his chest, and the panic made everything so much worse. She encouraged him to accept the oxygen, again, and Mitch felt like he had no choice.

He closed his eyes, and hoped that he might wake up and realise this was all just a horrible nightmare.

***

Steve fell asleep on Tim’s shoulder as they waited for Pat to return from surgery.

Tim’s heart ached for the two boys who had almost died, just because they were oblivious to their love for each other.

And now it was too late. If they both went through with the surgery, their feelings for each other would be gone forever.

Tim didn’t know how long he sat there, lost in his thoughts while Steve slept on him, a frown on his face.

And then Pat’s bed was returned to his room, and a doctor asked to speak to Tim and Steve.

Tim pressed a kiss to Steve’s temple, murmuring gentle words to wake him up.

They headed into Pat’s room, and the sight of Pat in the bed, unconscious, was almost enough to make Tim tear up. He looked so _young._

And now he was going to be an entirely different person, because of the surgery. A person whose life had never been touched by Mitch. Tim felt sick.

“Gentlemen, please take a seat,” the doctor suggested.

Steve sat in the seat by Pat’s bedside, and Tim stood behind him, a comforting hand on Steve’s shoulder.

The doctor looked very tense, and it seemed like she was considering her words carefully.

“This is a difficult conversation,” she began.

Tim thought he was going to be sick.

“Was the surgery unsuccessful?” Steve asked, alarmed.

The doctor gave him a calm look, suggesting she was going to get to the point soon. “We took Patrick in and scanned his chest first, to see whether his parasitic plant was a candidate for removal via surgery. Unfortunately, his disease has progressed too far. The plant is too intertwined with Patrick’s respiratory system - removing it was not an option.”

Tim gaped at her. “What comes next?”

“I’m sorry, gentlemen. I think it would be best if we discharged Patrick and you two helped him get his affairs in order, and encouraged him to say goodbye to his family before it’s too late,” the doctor explained.

Pat was going to die. Tim couldn’t process it. His brain felt cloudy.

Steve had been biting his nails, but something clicked in his mind.

“Oh my god,” Steve burst out. “We have to stop Mitch.”

The doctor looked at him, confused.

Tim realised what Steve was talking about. The extent of Pat’s disease could have been a blessing in disguise. His Hanahaki was still there - and so were his feelings for Mitch.

The two of them could heal each other.

Tim’s hands were shaking with the realisation, but he tried to help Steve explain their situation to the doctor.

She took it all in, and agreed that they needed to reunite Pat and Mitch before it was too late.

***

Mitch was awoken by a new doctor, who he didn’t recognise. His heart was heavy with the memory that Pat had loved him back, but it was too late.

“Mitchell, this is urgent. Is it true your Hanahaki is for a man by the name of Patrick Cummins?” The doctor asked.

Shaun, who had been asleep in the chair by Mitch’s bed, stirred at the noise.

“Yep, the one and only,” Mitch tried to joke, but his voice was raw from all of his coughing fits and difficulty breathing.

“His surgery was unsuccessful. His plant is still there. You two can heal each other right now,” she explained.

Mitch felt like he’d just had a shot of adrenaline released through his drip. “Are you serious?”

Shaun was looking at Mitch, eyes wide.

“You need to hurry. He doesn’t have long,” she replied. She asked to unhook Mitch from his drip and oxygen, and he accepted gratefully, not caring about how hard it was to breathe, because Patty loved him back, and they might both end up okay.

He abandoned his hospital gown and put his own clothes back on, now that he might not need surgery after all.

Shaun walked him down the hall, wincing at the ragged breaths Mitch drew.

Tim and Steve met the brothers outside Pat’s door.

“I can’t believe you have it, too,” Steve shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Mitch, I never realised.”

Mitch didn’t have the energy to have this discussion right now. All he wanted was to see Pat.

The doctor who had been tending to Pat came out of the room, explaining that they would all give the two of them some privacy, but that Pat may take some time to wake up.

Shaun pressed a kiss to Mitch’s temple. “I hope this is the end of that stupid fucking plant,” he said gently, making Mitch chuckle painfully.

Mitch steeled himself, walking through the door to be alone with the love of his life.

Pat was just stirring, recovering from the anaesthetic. He blinked groggily, looking around, before his eyes settled on Mitch. At the sight, painful coughs racked Pat’s body, and he coughed a full daisy into his hand, covered in blood.

Mitch’s heart ached at the sight. He found a tissue so Pat could dump the daisy in it, looking exhausted.

“The surgery… what happened?” Pat asked.

Mitch reached for Pat’s hand, but that just encouraged more coughs.

“Your plant is too intertwined with your airways, and they couldn’t remove it without killing you,” Mitch explained, voice breaking.

“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” Pat croaked.

Mitch shook his head. “Patty, we’ve gotten this all wrong. I have Hanahaki too. For you.”

Pat blinked. “What?”

“I love you, Patty. I’ve loved you for so long. I never thought you felt the same,” Mitch whispered, tracing a fingertip along Pat’s cheekbone.

The action made Pat cough up more blood.

Pat shook his head. “Mitchy, you don’t love me. You’re just saying that to try and heal me,” he whispered, heartbroken.

“Patty, no,” Mitch’s voice broke. “Last night, after our dinner, I collapsed in the bathroom and coughed up full flowers,” he whispered. “Because I love you. Because being with you was killing me, yet I still wanted more and more, because if I’m gonna die, at least I’ve had this time with you.”

Their breaths were both painful and ragged, and Mitch was getting light headed from a lack of oxygen.

“Patty, I love you. As more than just my best friend. I’ve been in love with you for years,” Mitch whispered.

“You love me,” Pat said, his voice the weakest Mitch had ever heard it.

A tear fell from Mitch’s eye. “Your plant won’t die until you believe me.”

Pat reached for Mitch, cupping Mitch’s stubbly jaw, swiping a thumb along Mitch’s cheekbone. Mitch coughed, trying to hide the blood from Pat’s view.

“Yours won’t die until you believe me, either,” Pat pointed out. “I love you, Mitchy. As more than a best friend. I want to be yours. All I’ve ever wanted to be was yours.”

Mitch closed his eyes at the admission, chest aching. Why was it still so hard to breathe?

Pat sat up in his bed, hospital sheet pooling around his hips. “Kiss me, Mitchy. Let me fix you.”

Mitch had never wanted anything more. He perched himself on the side of Pat’s bed, and Pat gripped his thigh.

Mitch held either side of Pat’s face and kissed him like his life depended on it. Because it did.

The kiss was chaste, but it was the most emotionally powerful moment Mitch had ever experienced. Mitch could taste salt, and he didn’t know whether the tears were coming from his eyes or Pat’s. All he knew was that this was going to save their lives.

When Mitch finally pulled away, he could feel the tightness in his chest finally releasing its pressure. Pat obviously felt the same way, because he was breathing deeply, refilling his body with the oxygen he had been missing for so long.

Mitch coughed for one final time, dislodging the final shrivelled remnant of the parasite that had nearly killed him. It wasn’t pretty, but Pat did the same, tears of relief in his eyes.

Mitch drew Pat into his arms in the tightest hug they had ever shared. “I can’t believe I nearly lost you,” Mitch murmured into Pat’s neck.

Pat huffed a disbelieving laugh. “I can’t believe I nearly lost _you_ ,” he echoed. “Only because we were both too stupid to realise we loved each other.”

It was actually kind of funny when Mitch thought about it. He didn’t know whether it was the euphoria of realising his love was requited, or the relief of healing, but he started laughing, and couldn’t stop.

Pat pulled him in for another kiss.

***

Pat and Mitch both had a few days off training to recover.

Shaun and Josh offered to room together so Pat and Mitch could have a bit of space, and they spent their first night out of hospital snuggled in bed, watching movies and talking.

Now that they were both parasite free, they were able to laugh about how oblivious they had been.

Pat was laying with his head on Mitch’s chest, one of Mitch’s hands in his hair, the other tracing gentle shapes into Pat’s back.

“I thought I was going to die,” Mitch admitted quietly. “But I would’ve rathered die than live without my feelings for you.”

Pat melted, leaning up to draw Mitch into a long kiss. “I would’ve chosen not to have surgery, too. But apparently I gave up my right to that choice when I collapsed,” he grimaced.

Mitch screwed up his nose. “Imagine if sharing a dinner is what killed us in the end,” he laughed humourlessly.

Pat grimaced. “That’s morbid, Mitchy.”

Mitch shrugged. “Would’ve been a great way to go.”

Pat sighed, pressing kisses to Mitch’s chest. “I’m glad you’re still here. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Mitch whispered, dropping a kiss into Pat’s hair. “When I heard you were in surgery...” Mitch trailed off, shaking his head. “Never leave me again,” he requested, with a pout that Pat found adorable.

Pat snuggled even closer to Mitch, kissing the pout off his face. “No way. You’re mine now.”

“Always have been, Patty.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! <3


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